


Full Circle Revolution

by Sereno_Nocturne



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-01-23
Updated: 2011-01-23
Packaged: 2017-10-15 00:39:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,537
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/155273
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sereno_Nocturne/pseuds/Sereno_Nocturne
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jensen wakes up naked in Misha's trailer, on his couch, with no memory of how it happened.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Full Circle Revolution

**Author's Note:**

> http://sereno-nocturne.livejournal.com

Misha was standing over at the small kitchenette of his trailer, fiddling with the coffeemaker as a smirk played across his lips. A smirk that only grew more wicked as he heard the telltale signs of Jensen finally awaking. And as the southern-drawled curses filled his trailer, he wiped the smirk off his face for something more innocent as he turned around.

“Good morning.” He sing-songed.

Jensen groaned, rolling over on the small couch, as if it would help him escape the sunlight filling the trailer.

Undaunted, Misha rested his hands back onto the flimsy countertop of the kitchenette and curled his fingers around its underside. “Filming starts in an hour, sleeping beauty. You look like hell.”

Briefly courting the idea of flipping Misha one, Jensen thought better of it as he tugged the covers up over his head. The plaintive _five minutes_ echoing in his head unsaid.

Misha gave it five seconds before Jensen would have the outburst he knew was coming. And allowing himself a quick, crooked smile, began the mental countdown.

 _Five_ … nothing.

 _Four_ … a sudden, unnatural stillness.

 _Three_ … a twitch of the blanket.

 _Two_ … the stillness returned.

 _One_ …

“Misha?” Jensen asked tentatively as he stared wide-eyed down at himself underneath the covers.

There were times, such as now, where Misha was exceedingly grateful he was an actor. It kept him from laughing and his voice calmly steady as he answered, “Jensen.”

Jensen’s eyes were wide underneath the covers as he stared from the couch he had finally realized he was on, to the fact that he was undeniably, irrefutably, naked. “Why am I naked on your couch?” He tried to ask as calmly as possible.

“How much do you remember about last night, honey?” Misha tossed out the endearment like a bone, and was rewarded with another subtle blanket twitch.

Jensen found himself frantically thinking, only coming up with a blurry haze of alcoholic partying involving Jared leaving at one point with Mark. “Why am I naked?” He asked instead, again; his hangover not cooperating with the idea of answering questions. In this state of undress and locale, he only wanted answers.

“I believe it was something to do with you feeling very in character and wanting to ride an angel to heaven.” Misha explained helpfully, and as Jensen’s frame underneath the blanket became rigid, he grinned solicitously as he strode forward on quiet feet.

Jensen’s eyes widened at the same time he felt himself flush in frantic, desperate embarrassment. He’d said _what_?! And suddenly he knew he had to somehow salvage this situation. So he carefully lowered the blanket from his face, steadfastly ignoring the way the increase of light made him flinch. “Misha, I –”

Misha darted a hand down to cut off whatever Jensen might have said, a truly angelic smile on his face. “You don’t need to say anything. What you do need to do is take a shower. We’ll be filming in under an hour now.” And with that, removed his hand from Jensen’s mouth only to replace it with a soft brush of his lips. Barely there, but there all the same.

Jensen could only lay there paralyzed as Misha was suddenly gone, the trailer door slamming shut. His brain seemed to have short-circuited; either from terror at his situation and lack of memory, or from Misha’s kiss, he wasn’t sure… but he knew with sudden clarity that he needed to find out what the hell had happened last night.

Which might have been how he found himself suddenly flailing out of the bed and onto the floor in his haste.

Yet one shower later, and one aching tailbone, Jensen was turning Misha’s trailer upside down as neatly as possible to try and find clues. Beer bottles, condom wrappers, suspicious stains on the couch, anything… and for that matter, why the _hell_ would he have thought that Misha’s trailer was a good place for something like _that_ anyway?!

He was carefully trying to skirt around calling it sex.

Shit. They had all gotten motel rooms for a reason. Their trailers weren’t exactly made for overnighting it in comfort.

After the fastest ransacking of a trailer that he’d ever done, the only thing Jensen had turned up was his cell phone. So feeling very uncertain, and wishing desperately for the fog to lift from his memories of the night before, he trudged towards costuming.

Filming seemed interminable to Jensen. If it wasn’t the waiting, the redoing of scenes, and the goofing off, it was trying not to meet Misha’s gaze for longer than Dean was required to. Because every time he met those serious blue eyes of Castiel’s visage, he was abruptly reminded of how those same eyes seemed to shine at him this morning.

It was doing strange things to his equilibrium.

They had broke for the lighting crew to do some adjustments for the next scene, which translated into a good time to grab something to eat. He made a dash for the table that caused Jared on approach to give him an amused, but searching look.

“You okay, Jen? You’re acting… weird, today.”

“Yeah. Fine.” Jensen answered a bit too fast for his own liking, and tried not to wince.

Jared stared at him, expression letting on nothing as to his thoughts before he shrugged. “Okay.”

“I could get you coffee.”

Jensen startled violently as Misha’s voice sounded behind him, nearly dropping his sandwich in the process. Dignity kept him from fleeing, though, as he turned to give Misha as calm a look as possible. Trying to make out as if nothing had happened this morning. “I’m fine. Thanks.”

Misha smiled that shit-eating smile at him and leaned around Jensen, purposefully brushing up against him, to get himself his own sandwich. Saying nothing, he only spared Jensen a wink before turning the smile on Jared and strolling off towards where Mark was playing cards with one of the extras.

Jensen didn’t realize he’d been staring after Misha until Jared cleared his throat beside him, causing him to whip his head around with a level scowl.

Jared’s lips were quirked at the corners, eyebrows inching towards his hairline. A feat Jensen found amazing, considering the whole of Kansas could fit on Jared’s forehead.

“What?” Jensen finally breathed, chagrined.

“Nothing.” Jared declared, in a voice that completely voided his declaration.

But Jensen couldn’t find it in himself to care, not when he had a more pressing question to toss onto his pseudo-brother. “How drunk was I when you and Mark left last night?”

Jared shrugged, “drunker than you were when Jim challenged you to that 100 bottles of beer countdown. You ended somewhere in the high 80’s that night –” he ignored the glare, “– but who knows what the hell Misha was mixing for you.” Then he slid a suspicious look Jensen’s way. “Why?”

Jensen heaved out a world-weary breath, frowning over at Misha who seemed to be trying to convince Mark and the extra… Katie, or something, to turn their card game into the stripping variety. “You breathe a word of this to anyone, _anyone_ , and I will _end you_.”

Jared nodded immediately.

Jensen took a quick, calculating look around to be sure he’d not be overheard. “I woke up naked on Misha’s trailer couch.”

Jared, who had inopportunely taken a bite of a taco, wheezed and choked violently until several heavy-handed slaps to his back from Jensen managed to clear the blockage. With eyes still watering, he blinked widely at his surly-looking best friend. “I’d think a bit of sex would have made you happy.”

“I can’t even remember if we did!” Jensen hissed as loudly as he dared. “I could find no evidence. How am I to know he’s not just trying to pull one over on me?!”

“Wait.” Jared held up a massive hand, studying Jensen intently. “We’ve all pulled pranks on each other involving states of nakedness, me more than some –”

Jensen snorted.

“– but Misha’s a close runner-up. So why’s he got you all jumpy now?”

Whatever answer Jensen was going to give, he neither had a chance to fully formulate it, much less say it, as the director called him back over. They were ready to start shooting again. And Jared’s question gave him far more pause than it should have.

When exactly had he gotten to this point? When exactly had Misha inserted himself into his life so thoroughly that the way he’d felt after, _when_ Misha had kissed him… why had he even felt anything?

He didn’t even realize how withdrawn his inner crisis was making him underneath Dean’s façade until he, Jared, and Misha were all shooting a scene together. They were supposed to be about to storm through a door to dispatch some demons.

 _Dean quickly shoved himself up against the doorframe, looking quickly to where Sam stood, about to kick in the door. “On three.” He mouthed, shotgun ready in hand._

 _Sam nodded, all business of the personal sort with eyes narrowed._

 _“Three. Two. One.”_

 _Just as Sam went for explosive door-kicking satisfaction, Cas suddenly chimes in with: “you said on three.”_

Which causes Jared to glance off on his door kick, leaving much to be desired; and Jensen to give an amused-looking Misha a helpless look as he finally cracked his first grin of the day at him. Not a smile, a full-fledged grin.

“Well, yeah,” Jensen began in humored defense, “that’s what it says in the script.”

“But you ended on one.” Misha pointed out, unable to keep from returning the grin. Inexplicably pleased about Jensen finally smiling at him, not noticing before now just how much he’d taken notice of Jensen’s almost-silent treatment.

At that moment, Mark suddenly appeared out of nowhere next to them with the script in hand, pointing helpfully. “It does. It says it. It says on three.” He showed them as they all gathered around. “Three. Two. One.”

“Who wrote this?” Misha queried as he peered over Mark’s shoulder.

“It says on three.” Jared nodded in confirmation.

“On three.” Jensen agreed firmly, with just as firm a gesture with his shotgun to cement his implication that he’d read the script.

The director finally was able to break them up, sending them back to their places as Mark wandered back off set with the script in hand and a smirk. Upon reaching his chair he snagged a pen off of one of the PA’s and began making corrections to the script himself as he waited for his own cues.

Jensen was required to keep his line, for whatever logically incorrect reason the writers had given the director. He couldn’t find it in himself to care though that Dean sounded like an idiot, if it caused Castiel to look at him that way again, even if it wasn’t Cas’s face they were filming at the time.

 The rest of the day filming seemed to pass easier, and much faster for him, and Jensen wondered if that had anything to do with the return of his trading smiles and looks and bad jokes with Misha between takes.

But by the end of the day, Jensen, for the life of him, still couldn’t remember anything that may or may not have happened last night between he and Misha.

“You do know the only way you’ll find out what happened last night is _not_ to ask him, right?” Jared said in confidence later that evening as they were changing out of their costumes. Misha having already been released an hour earlier to disappear to who-only-knew where.

Jensen nodded, having come to much the same conclusion himself. “Trick a trickster, right?”

“What would Gabriel do.” Jared agreed cheerfully.

Jensen barely resisted calling up Richard for his take on the matter as he walked towards Misha’s trailer in the hope he was still there, foregoing dinner in search of potential answers. He still didn’t have a plan as he reached the trailer door, but figuring Misha’s reaction might be clue enough, he rapped loudly.

Soon enough the door swung open, and Misha smiled instantly as he saw Jensen. “I was actually thinking we could go out for dinner. But come on in.”

And then it hit Jensen like a hammer of obvious. His smirk became almost predatory as he took the invitation. “What if I’m not hungry for anything but you?” He purred, shutting the door with his foot as he advanced upon Misha.

 “You have good taste.” Misha approved, only to seize up in a startle as without warning, Jensen whirled him towards the nearest wall. His back slammed roughly up against it as blazing green eyes were suddenly staring down into his own. “Jensen, what –!”

“Misha.” Jensen interrupted sharply, “I can’t remember what the hell happened last night, but I’m sure this will refresh my memory.”

Misha’s breath was sucked in quickly as a hot mouth descended on his neck, hot tongue laving the way for openmouthed kisses. Then suddenly, Jensen’s hands were _everywhere_. Where the fuck had he gotten so many _hands_?! “Jensen!” He gasped, squirming against the wall where he was pinned.

Jensen answered in a growl, smirking against Misha’s neck before sliding his lips up to the curve of one ear. “Don’t want to do it against the wall?”

“No!” Misha shivered at the puff of hot air against his ear, a groan catching in his throat as Jensen’s teeth lightly bit down. “Jensen, I –!”

“Right, not here.” Jensen agreed, devilishly thrilled to be keeping Misha from getting a word in edgewise. Despite his words, though, he didn’t pull away. At least from Misha. In a movement that defied explanation, he had managed to get Misha halfway to the couch before he was abruptly stopped.

Misha had planted his feet, and was breathing hard as he stared with wide, guileless blue eyes at Jensen. “Wait a moment!”

Jensen felt a surge of pride that he’d managed to put Misha into this state of disarray, and mentally congratulated his hands on how well they’d further mussed that messy hair. “Right, we should get the lube first.”

Misha suddenly had an armful of Jensen again, unable to help the tortured groan that escaped him this time as Jensen stepped up the assault on his neck. Make-up was going to have a field day tomorrow. A thought that flew quickly from his mind as Jensen’s hands settled onto his ass with a possessive squeeze that rocked him forward against Jensen’s hips.

He finally managed to extricate himself when he felt his cock taking interest in the warm, firm body pressing against him. The knowledge caused him to squirm free with wide eyes, bracing Jensen out at arm’s length. By the smirk on Jensen’s lips, he knew exactly why he’d struggled free at last. “We need to talk.”

Jensen flicked a gaze of clear interest over Misha’s mussed state. It was rare to see Misha like this, frazzled. It was something he was enjoying. “Why did you try to trick me?” He asked, stepping back to sit on the couch and look up at Misha with amused curiosity.

He was ready to hear Misha out… and then maybe, just maybe, he might accept that invitation to dinner.


End file.
